


I Could Wait So Long

by pansypark



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pansypark/pseuds/pansypark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wants to know why Sherlock wont stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Wait So Long

_We sleep side by side, your hands in mine._  
And when you get here, it’s so nice.  
It’s just the part where you leave I don’t like. 

John knows that this-whatever _this_ is, because he certainly doesn't know-thing with Sherlock wont last. No, that it can't last. It's purely physical, John thinks. It can't last because Sherlock wont let it. He'll be bored of it soon enough, brushing it off and sweeping it under the rug. It's just another experiment and it _hurts_. The touchs, the looks. Everything.

The thing that hurts the most, John ponders, eyes watching carefully from the sofa as Sherlock works in the kitchen, is those moments when John's awake and Sherlock isn't. That's when he's the most beautiful. He's relaxed, his hair a mess atop his head, all curls and fluff and John knows how soft it is because it's only been hours since he's had his fingers burried in it while Sherlock kissed down his throat. The sunlight that shines in illuminates his flesh in the most interesting way, making John think that if he was any paler, he would be transparent.

But the thing that gets John the most, the thing that digs its way deep into his heart and sets up a nest that festers like those infections Sherlock is so fond of, is that Sherlock's hand is almost always intertwined with his own. He doesn't know how it gets that way, because Sherlock doesn't like touching unless it's, well... _that_ , and that's pushing it. And John knows it couldn't be him, because then he would be allowing himself too much, and that would just be dangerous. Hope is a fickle thing, he thinks.  
In those moments, though, John allows himself the pleasure, allows the hope to spread and blossom in his chest and he falls asleep with a smile on his face. His last thought before he dozes off again is that he hopes Sherlock's still there when he wakes up. That _this_ will be the morning that he'll open his eyes to find those stunning orbs staring back at him and a brilliant smile on such a serious face. That this will be the day that John and Sherlock become JohnandSherlock.  
When he wakes, though. The bed is long cold. His hand lay in the empty space next to him, palm up and bare.  
John steels himself and gets ready to face another day, locking everything away behind the toughest barrier that Sherlock seems to break and crack with every glance, every twist of lips.


End file.
